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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991175">Once Upon a Memory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janara/pseuds/Janara'>Janara</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsmyspark/pseuds/startmyspark'>startmyspark (artsmyspark)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asgard (Marvel), Asgardian Culture (Marvel), Asgardian Tony Stark, Developing Relationship, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 &amp; Broadway), M/M, Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:47:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janara/pseuds/Janara, https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsmyspark/pseuds/startmyspark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty years ago, the youngest prince of Ásgarðr vanished during an attack. He has not been found ever since.<br/>Many have attempted to claim the reward for returning the lost prince to his family and when Tony meets a mysterious stranger, he figures why not giving it a try.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Once Upon a Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Created for the FrostIron minibang and posted on Tumblr originally.<br/>Art by artsmyspark, fic by Janara.</p><p><i>Janara:</i> For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsmyspark/pseuds/startmyspark">artsmyspark</a>, whose idea it was to have an Asgardian take on the 'Anastasia' plot.<br/>Thank you for the inspiration and world-building.<br/>Also a big thank you to my love  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Flutterby">Madame Flutterby</a> for looking through the spelling. Any remaining typos and weird words are all on me.</p><p>Translations for the random (butchered) Old Norse terminology are at the end.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<b> Part I - Meant to Be </b>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The day the Svartálfar attacked had meant to be a beautiful one.</p><p>The sun was rising early, bathing the golden turrets of Asgard in gentle light and causing the dew in the palace garden to sparkle.<br/>
With a deep breath the young prince leaned against the tree trunk, settling comfortably on the wide branch he was sitting on. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers and fruits and fresh summer.<br/>
He plucked an apple and took a bite. The heavy greenery would be hiding him completely from whomever might stroll through the garden and in any case, his brother was not likely to look anywhere besides straight forward.</p><p>"Loki?"</p><p>He held his breath for a moment, kept completely still and wrapped the quiet around him like a cloak. Not even the leaves surrounding him were rustling despite the gentle breeze. Silly mistake, that. 'Always appear natural, no matter the disguise' he remembered the words of Master Víðarr. But Thor had already passed his tree. He could spot the golden head move to peek behind bushes and had to suppress an amused snort.</p><p>It was too fine a day to be sitting in a study, listening to his brother painfully stuttering through another battle hymn. He had read most of them already, or enough that he knew they were all the same. Why they had to bother, he did not know. Oration training, Lady Hlóra had called it - to prepare you for your future duties when addressing our people, their mother had explained.<br/>
Maybe they needed it, who knew, but not today. Today the andrja flowers had finally been blooming for a fortnight so the roots would be ready. He had been looking forward to confirming the effects of that particular potion for so long. Thor would not know what hit him…</p><p>"Loki?!"</p><p>The call rung through the garden again, louder this time. His brother was losing patience. Granted, he did not have much to start with. The young prince shuffled a bit, pressing closer against the trunk. Then he felt it.</p><p>Something foul. Something dark and harsh and wrong. Something that did not belong here.<br/>
His breath caught and eyes rolled backwards. He would not remember how he fell.</p><p>*</p><p>He smelled smoke, heavy and suffocating, filling his lungs and making him cough.</p><p>"Loki?"</p><p>There was a hand grasping his arm. He opened his eyes. Thor was crouched in front of him, scanning their surroundings with a wild gaze.</p><p>"What happened?" He noticed that he was leaning against a cold stone wall.</p><p>"An attack. We have to get out of here."</p><p>"What?" He pushed his back against the wall, scrambling to be upright. Looking around he recognised the dim hallway. The most direct way from the garden towards the palace walls. They knew it well after sneaking out of the grounds more than once, until they had gotten caught one day.</p><p>"We can't go there anymore, it's blocked."</p><p>"There is another way." Thor had grabbed his arm again, tugging him, urging him to follow.</p><p>"Wait!" He tried to stop. "What about mother and father?"</p><p>"Mother brought us here. We have to go."</p><p>He struggled harder, not wanting to leave. "But…"</p><p>"We have to go!" Thor shouted, finally turning towards him again. Loki stared at the pained, grave face that did not look like his brother. No light cheerfulness or playful impatience. He swallowed.</p><p>"It was all she asked me to do," Thor continued, something thick and heavy clogging his voice. "The two of you shall be safe - she said. Take your brother outside and hide. We will find you when it's over. She begged me to do it. For her." Thor's voice broke.</p><p>Loki stared for a moment, then nodded and drew himself up. "Let's go."</p><p>They stumbled through the dark hallway full of smoke and dust. The sounds of battle ebbing somewhere behind them. Once there was a scream.</p><p>As they turned around yet another corner, he thought he felt the merest hint of fresh air. Thor squeezed his shoulder tightly then let go and darted ahead.</p><p>"Wait." He saw his brother stepping through the smoke, one second there, the next he was alone.</p><p>"Thor?" The hard stone threw mocking echoes back at him. He took a few steps forwards.</p><p>"Thor?" He called, louder this time, and sped up.</p><p>"Your Highness."</p><p>He spun around, his eyes searching the gloom for wherever the whisper had come from. He focused on what seemed like a spot in the wall a few steps ahead of him.</p><p>"Who is there?"</p><p>A boy stepped forward, he thought he had seen him before. He must be about his age, a bit shorter than him, with dark hair and tanned skin that was covered in soot and ashes.</p><p>"Your Highness, please, this way."</p><p>"My brother…"</p><p>"He went ahead. To see if the way's clear."</p><p>He hesitated, unclear what to do. All his logic screamed at him that this could be a horrible trap but something deep inside told him that he could trust this boy. Maybe it was the obvious struggle on the grimy face that showed a clear dilemma between urgency, concern and a wish to keep to polite protocol.</p><p>"The only way out of here is blocked," Loki tried.</p><p>"There is another." The boy swallowed visibly. "It's hidden. But I've used it often. Please," the urgency intensified, "I know how this sounds. But we don't have much time."</p><p>Another explosion shook the walls and he swallowed.</p><p>"Loki?!"<br/>
He heard Thor's call from what sounded within the walls behind the boy and took a few steps towards him. There, just behind the small frame was a narrow gateway. As he reached it, he turned his head to look into brown eyes that held a mixture of fear and hope and something he could not decipher.</p><p>"Good luck."</p><p>He nodded and started running.</p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p>
  <i>30 years later</i>
</p><p>*****</p><p> </p><p>"Would you look at that. The Iron Man in person in my humble tavern. You still owe me 5 kop for that chair last week."</p><p>"Sure thing, Rosie. As soon as I get my next payment." Tony gave the barmaid a winning smile. It bounced smoothly off her sour expression.</p><p>"Roskva to you, Stark. At least until you paid up. He's at his usual table," she nodded towards the back of the room.</p><p>He navigated his way through the patrons, bumping shoulders with acquaintances and grinning his way out of invitations to join in on games and gambles. In the back, a little way off from the crowd, a lone man sat at a table. The surrounding area was empty which would have confused any newcomer, but the Bearded Bard did rarely see newcomers and those foolish enough to take a seat in this part of the tavern were soon escorted away.<br/>
Tony scanned his surroundings then sank into the chair opposite of the dark-skinned man who seemed to be reading.</p><p>"Master Stark, how kind of you to meet me at last."</p><p>"Well, since you've been asking so nicely."</p><p>That gained him an unimpressed look from the eye that was not hidden behind an eyepatch.<br/>
"We had an appointment yesterday."</p><p>"So we did." Stark smiled and settled back in his chair, sprawling in what could only be interpreted as an insolent manner. "Unfortunately the item hasn't been ready then."</p><p>"And is it now?"</p><p>"Not just yet."</p><p>The jaw tightened and he got another, more intense glare.<br/>
Sometimes he wondered if the names the Division gave its members were not a bit too obvious. The Hawk with his superb sight, the Widow and her deadliness and then there was Fury himself. The man certainly had the temper to fit the moniker. He also had great self-control - which Tony strove to put to test regularly.</p><p>"We had a deal, Stark. You know you're not the only… artificer in Asgard."</p><p>"True. But I'm the best. And the one who gives you a special price." He was positively lounging now.</p><p>"There's Dragvandil in the Trader's District."</p><p>Tony tensed for a second and noticed Fury glancing over his left shoulder. How could there be anyone behind him all of a sudden? There was just the open room he had crossed a moment before, nowhere for anyone to conceal themselves. Sure, Fury never came alone, usually one or two of his more mindless cronies were scattered amongst the tavern guests. But they did not interrupt. Only people respected by the master assassin dared to do so. Tony knew all of those very select people and he had never heard <i>this</i> voice before. Still, he stubbornly kept his focus on the man opposite of him, fighting down his curiosity as to who had spoken. He would not be killed by the Division, not here, not today. The Director would not give the command for it to be done in public and he was too valuable to Fury.</p><p>"Sure, go to Dragvandil. Enjoy his products right up till the trigger starts lagging after, oh, about two years. See how you like the two seconds delay that makes the difference between fulfilling a contract and your mark getting away."</p><p>There was silence behind him. The sort that was heavy and made its presence poignantly known. Fury's eye was on him and did not give anything away.<br/>
"I expect the product tomorrow morning."</p><p>"Deal," Tony nodded and straightened up.</p><p>"Any reason why the delay?"</p><p>He had been waiting for that, Fury was notoriously curious. However, he did <i>not</i> need to know everything. Especially about Tony's private projects.<br/>
"Just got distracted," he waved callously and hoped his reputation for being unreliable and getting lost in random creations would be in his favour for once. The eye opposite him narrowed in suspicion.</p><p>"Is that so?"</p><p>"Yup," he tried for a guileless smile and stood up.</p><p>"Can he leave?"</p><p>He clenched his teeth for a moment. There was something unusual in that low, pleasant voice. Still refusing to turn around he stared at Fury. The assassin studied him for a moment longer, then looked past him and gave a small nod.<br/>
Straightening his shoulders he turned around, all prepared to give whoever was behind him a dismissive sneer but there was no one standing there. The room was spreading in front of him, tables full of merrymakers and gamblers just as always. He blinked.<br/>
He resisted the urge to turn back towards the table and glare at Fury, would not give the Director that satisfaction, and took to marching out of the tavern instead.</p><p>Once safely in the alley that led to his smithy and adjoining accommodation, he took a deep breath. He was not sure if he had managed to dissuade Fury's inquisitiveness, not sure at all. It was not like it was an illegal project but he did not want too many people knowing about it. Not until he had the necessary funds to construct it all by himself.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eyes he saw something fluttering in the wind and took it from the wall without much thought. A derisive snort escaped him as he saw the announcement.<br/>
200 gullin for reliable information on the Lost Prince - 500 gullin for procuring him and presenting him to the Royal Family.<br/>
Must be nice to have that much gold to throw away on a dream, he scoffed.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It had been a short night, it usually was. His mind always active and contriving and pushing rarely allowed him much sleep. Adding the ongoing considerations about how to acquire the necessary funds for his newest project made for a less than restful night.</p><p>He had been up for almost two hours, tinkering on some minor mechanisms and tweaking the item for Fury - never a good idea to annoy a master assassin too much without being of some use to them - when he heard a rustle of fabric somewhere to his right.<br/>
He swung around, the grasp on the sword he had just been polishing tightening, and saw a tall, dark figure slowly stepping out from the shadows in the corner.</p><p>"We're not open yet." He narrowed his eyes at the face that should be visible any moment, raising the sword ever so slightly.</p><p>"Please, Master Stark, I mean no harm."</p><p>Oh, he remembered <i>that</i> voice. Soft and low, with a somewhat foreign lilt to it. One night had not been enough to drive it from his memory.</p><p>"Fury getting impatient? He can send his cronies at opening times like everyone else…"</p><p>His voice trailed off as the stranger finally came into full view. He stared at the face. Pale skin, dark hair and - he noticed as the light of the forge settled on the intruder - green eyes.<br/>
He glanced at the announcement that he had taken home without knowing why. What a coincidence. What an incredible, suggestive coincidence.<br/>
He swallowed and looked back at the stranger whose gaze had followed his but the piece of paper had been out of his line of sight. When the green eyes met his, he could see a hint of suspicion in them and was not surprised. One could only hang around Fury and stay alive if being susceptible to subtle changes. He must have noticed Tony's momentary and uncharacteristic consternation.</p><p>Clearing his throat in an attempt to lighten the tense mood, he took the carefully wrapped crossbow prototype from the shelf and placed it on the counter between them.<br/>
"This is what you're here for, I assume."</p><p>The other hummed and strolled towards the counter. He moved with the languid, controlled ease that Tony had learned to recognise in the Division's associates. Spies, thieves, assassins - there were many of them. Mostly sneered at by those residing up at the Palace District but still hired whenever the nobles found them to be useful in their quarrelling for power and influence. Tony had thought he knew them all by now, at least by sight, but was surer than ever that he had not seen this one before. Maybe a newcomer.</p><p>"So, how's life in Asgard treating you?" He tried, while watching the long, slender fingers unwrapping the parcel. There was still something he could not place in the other's way of moving. Something he had not seen before, not even among the members of the Division. Something that hinted at forced restraint.</p><p>The stranger glanced at him for a second, then lifted the crossbow to inspect it. He turned it back and forth and hefted it to aim at something behind Tony who very deliberately did not tense but was leaning comfortably against the counter.<br/>
Finally the crossbow was placed back down and wrapped up. A pouch was thrown beside it with a slight jingle.</p><p>"Very well."</p><p>"What? The life in Asgard or my outstanding craftmanship?"</p><p>That earned him a short flash of green eyes and the quirk of a corner of the mouth. Then the stranger turned towards a wall containing racks of blades. Swords, daggers and knives of all sizes and shapes were gleaming in the light that was cast through the windows by the rising sun.<br/>
As the other's attention was not on him any longer, Tony swallowed and took a deep breath. Sure, Fury would not want him dead right now but he still did not know this one. He watched as the tall figure stopped in front of the wall and raised his hand to run a finger along one of the sharp blades.<br/>
He ground his teeth.</p><p>"These are exquisite."</p><p>"Thanks," he growled. "And no touching except you actually plan on buying it."</p><p>The stranger glanced over his shoulder, a bright smirk on his face. It was such a change from the rather stoic expression had seen until now that it made Tony flounder.</p><p>"Maybe I will, one day. Right now I fear your prices are a bit out of my reach."</p><p>His eyes scanned the tall figure. He did not look like he belonged to the poor. Clad in a dark ensemble made of leather and linen that was clearly aimed at functionality and easy to move in. Not exactly the fashion of the rich and powerful but definitely not too shabby. He could see his visitor's point however. Had he the amount of coins those specific blades were set at, he would probably not work for the Division.</p><p>"How about asking Fury for a raise?"</p><p>"Ah, the dear Director. He was not too pleased with me last night." There was definite amusement in that soft voice now. Tony raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Doesn't sound like that bothers you much?"</p><p>"You seem to be under the impression I'm one of his… how did you put it… cronies?"</p><p>Tony was frowning at the stranger who had taken to mirror his own position on the other side of the counter, leaning against it in relaxed nonchalance, mouth curved in mild amusement and eyes studying him.</p><p>"Well, one could come to that conclusion. What with you lurking around yesterday and now being sent on a random errand."</p><p>"Hardly a <i>random</i> errand, is it?" The amusement did not leave the other's face as his hand brushed lightly over the parcel.</p><p>Tony raised an eyebrow but did not disagree. Of course it was not just some errand. The crossbow was one of the best-balanced, most finely tuned prototypes he had ever created. And he <i>was</i> the best.</p><p>"So Fury isn't happy with you but still sends you to fetch this…"</p><p>The other shrugged. "Maybe a chance to get back into his good graces. Do check your payment, by the way, I insist."</p><p>"What, so I can't complain afterwards that it wasn't the full amount and you pinched off some of it?"</p><p>"Look at that. You <i>are</i> clever after all." There was a gleam of teeth as the tall man grinned.</p><p>"Good to know that you got the essentials of trading in Asgard right at least," Tony replied with a snort.</p><p>"Whatever makes you think I'm a newcomer?"</p><p>Tony frowned and took in the stranger once again. There was still something outlandish about him that he could not place.<br/>
"Well, I haven't really seen you around…"</p><p>"And Anthony Edward Stark - son of Howard Starksson whose name he discarded - knows everyone in the city. Down from the Fringe District all the way up to the Palace all sorts of people are doing business with the widely known and highly favoured Iron Man - whose weapons and armaments are unsurpassed and whose more… creative… inventions inspire entrepreneurs and artisans alike."</p><p>Tony frowned. He was the first who would say all that, unironically, because it was true. But having it thrown at him in such a dispassionate and unimpressed way felt like he was being strung along. And besides that: "You know quite a lot about me. Why the interest?"<br/>
And suddenly something clicked inside his mind. He stared at the other. "Fury sent you to spy on me!"</p><p>"Oh, well done! I was wondering how many hints you would need."</p><p>He narrowed his eyes at the widely beaming face. "Admitting that won't help you getting in deep with Fury."</p><p>The other shrugged. "I never said I wanted to. I might work for the Division now and then but I do not belong to them."</p><p>Tony gave him an obvious once over. "Could have fooled me." He received an even smiled and continued, "So, what are you here for?"</p><p>"I thought we could come up with some convincing story why this," he nodded at the parcel, "has taken you too long. I get a nice little bonus and you can continue your tinkering undisturbed. Everyone is happy." He finished with a wide grin.</p><p>"Which means I'd have to trust you not to use that as a set up to snoop around." He gave the other an unconvinced stare.</p><p>"You'll be able to trust me."</p><p>Tony raised an unimpressed eyebrow and earned another bland smile</p><p>"Look, I'm not interested in the Division, just the bonus Fury promised me. "</p><p>Money. It always came back to money. But who was he to judge. His gaze flickered back to where the announcement was lying innocuously and oh so suggestively. Whoever the stranger was, he seemed a crook, or of the mindset of one at least. And daring… Trying do double-cross Fury took quite some guts. Nothing for those of tender nerves and slow minds. Sure, some might have tried to do so out of plain stupidity but somehow he did not think this the case here.<br/>
It might be worth a try. What was the worst that could happen? He swallowed and took out the paper from under the counter, placing it between them.</p><p>"What? You playing shining knight in search of the Lost Prince? You honestly think Fury will buy that?"</p><p>"Forget Fury," Tony waved. "You know about the Lost Prince?"</p><p>The other shrugged. "Of course, who doesn't? Gone missing since the attack. Probably died in some ditch somewhere. What of him?"</p><p>"You know how he looked like?" Tony studied the other who just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Most people around here don't. Or don't remember… The Royal Family are known for their golden hair and blue eyes. But the youngest prince was somewhat of an anomaly. He was very pale, paler than the others, with dark hair and green eyes." He kept his gaze steady on the face opposite of him.</p><p>The sharply drawn eyebrows knitted for a second. "I see…" The stranger looked down at the paper again, one long finger tracing the number of 500. "Many people have tried to claim the reward. None of them succeeded."</p><p>"Many people didn't know how the young prince really looked like. Or were not smart enough to make it believable. Or tried to be too smart."</p><p>The thin lips twitched. "There is certainly something to that." The tall figure leaned back, resting an elbow on the countertop. "And you think we could make it believable?"</p><p>"Well…" Tony gestured along the other's frame. "And you must have some skills in subterfuge if Fury sent you to me."</p><p>"True." The grin widened at the simple statement. "And this," he gestured down himself, "is but part of it." Tony frowned, wondering about the strange implication, but the other already continued, "You seem to know quite a bit about the Lost Prince?"</p><p>Tony considered for a moment how much he could give away but saw no harm in the information. "My mother used to work at the Palace and I've been there quite often as a child. I remember what the prince looked like."</p><p>"Hmm…" The long finger was tapping against the stranger's lips as the green eyes scanned the announcement once more. "I'll want 350 gullin."</p><p>"What?!" Tony jumped up.</p><p>"But of course." The grin was positively predatory now. "It's after all me who carries all the risk."</p><p>"Sure. Except it was my idea. You could always play stupid if caught and say I convinced you that you're really the prince or some crap like that. If anything <i>I</i> should be getting 350!"</p><p>The other tilted his head and studied him for a moment while Tony gave him his best glare.</p><p>"I don't see either of us agreeing on giving the other more than half. 250 gullin are not all too bad."</p><p>Tony snorted at that. 250 gullin would start him up nicely. He wondered what his unexpected business partner might want that sort of money for.</p><p>"Adding to that, I will make sure that neither of us will betray the other." Tony stared. Well, that went without saying but.. "I'll vow that I won't blame you if found out and you'll do the same for me. No going and saying I tricked you by pretended to be the prince." The green eyes narrowed at him.</p><p>He had a point, Tony thought. This operation left so many options for betrayal and they did not even know each other.  "All very sensible, and I'm more than ready to agree, but how exactly do you want to <i>make sure</i>?"</p><p>The grin came back, wide and smug, as the stranger rose from his seated position to stand opposite him. He spat in his hand and held it out.<br/>
Tony blinked. "That's rather archaic…" He stared at the offered palm.</p><p>"If it's archaic you want, I have no problem complying." Out of nowhere there was a thin, gleaming blade in the other hand. Tony swallowed and willed himself to not back away. Damn, that was fast. He had not seen the weapon being drawn.<br/>
"Originally, oaths of trust were bound by blood," the soft voice murmured, "but any bodily fluid will do really. The power lies in the coming together of two essences in agreement."</p><p>"Wait a second…" Wheels were starting to spin in Tony's mind. They sped up as he saw the dagger vanishing into thin air. Saw it happening right in front of his eyes. Suddenly some of the scattered pieces slotted together.<br/>
"You're a mage," he whispered and stared at the dark figure who grinned challengingly back at him.</p><p>Excitement rose within him. A mage! He had always wanted to meet a mage. "I can't believe it." His voice sounded hoarse and he could not keep himself from gaping.</p><p>"You say that as if I'm some mythical creature. We're not that rare."</p><p>Except they were. At least in the Fringe District. Mages usually were highly educated, well trained and if not born into the upper classes then found their way there rather fast due to their talents. He cleared his throat, eager to save some face. He did not want to come across as some fawning fool.</p><p>"Well, I haven't really gotten to deal with any of you before."</p><p>"Oh?" The other tilted his head. "I thought you were at the Palace?"</p><p>True, it was general knowledge that the Royal Family were able to wield seiðr, as were some of their most trusted officials. "I wasn't exactly <i>that</i> cosy with the nobs," he shrugged.</p><p>"I guess you weren't." The mage replied and reached out with his hand once more. "The offer is still standing."</p><p>Tony swallowed and stared at the hand. He had heard of oaths, everyone knew of them. Nowadays they were simply symbolic and one was bound by honour to followed them. This however was the real thing, both of them would be unable to break it. Ah well, in for koparinn, in for silfrit. He took a deep breath, spat in his palm and reached out before he could reconsider.</p><p>He tried not to cringe as their hands connected, half expecting a sensation of stickiness, but the other's skin was dry and soft and cool to the touch. Then he felt a prickle spreading from the middle of his palm, creeping like a web over his hand.</p><p>"So that neither shall betray the other until the goal has been reached or lost."</p><p>His gaze flew up, searching to meet the other's but the mage was staring at their hands. When he did look up, there seemed a slight green glow in his commanding eyes.</p><p>Tony swallowed. "So that neither shall betray the other until the goal has been reached or lost."<br/>
He winced at the sensation spreading across his palm, as if the web encircling their hands had caught fire. Strands of searing heat were seeping into his skin. Then, suddenly, as if nothing had happened, it was gone.</p><p>"That's that." The soft voice said and there was a satisfied tilt to the lips.</p><p>He frowned and tried to listen into himself, expecting to feel different in some way but could not detect anything. His breath escaped in a sigh. Just then he realised that he was still holding the other's hand and let go. His palm prickled strangely.</p><p>The mage looked amused as he drew back and picked up the parcel. "I've got some business to conclude. I'll come back in, let's say, three days, then we can start planning. What time would suit you?"</p><p>"What?" Tony blinked and got another of those raised eyebrows. Annoyed with himself he cleared his throat. "Any time in the evening is fine. I'll be here." He gestured at his smithy.</p><p>The mage nodded and turned to leave.</p><p>"Wait!" Tony called, his new business partner glanced questioningly over his shoulder. "I don't even know your name…"</p><p>Green eyes were watching him in silent contemplation for a moment, as if the stranger tried to reach some conclusion.<br/>
"You may call me Loptr."<br/>
And with that he turned away and stepped into the remaining specks of shadow lurking in the corner farthest from the windows.</p><p>Tony stared for a moment, then crossed the counter to go to where the mage had vanished without leaving any trace behind.<br/>
Loptr, he thought. Even if not a member of the Division his new accomplice seemed to share their liking for meaningful nicknames.<br/>
Loptr… The mage indeed seemed as easy to grasp as air itself.</p><p>*</p><p>He had to bend to step through the low door. Once inside the dusky room, he sighed and took a deep, content breath. The air was heavy with earth and herbs. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook at the door, then let himself fall onto a creaking wooden chair at the table.<br/>
He more felt the flutter than hearing it. With a slight smile, he rested his chin in his palm and turned his head slightly.<br/>
"Already up, Hláka? When I left you were snoring something foul."</p><p>"Was not!" The creature giggled, iridescent wings fluttering wildly as they hovered beside the mage's right ear. He swatted half-heartedly when they tried to nip him and snickered at the retching sound that followed.</p><p>"Foul! You talkin' 'bout foul! Stinky, stinky Meinkráka, where have you been?"</p><p>"Serves you right for trying to take a chomp out of me." He grinned and advanced his index finger as if threatening to stub the Fay's delicate nose.</p><p>"Foul!" The high screech chimed through the hut like a silver bell as the creature dove to hide behind the vase of flowers standing in the middle of the table. A few seconds later, a small face was peeking through lush green leaves.<br/>
"Where <i>have</i> you been?"</p><p>Smiling at the Fay, he put his chin back into his palm. "Visiting a man who was doing wonderous things with metal. Forging the most exquisite knives and chains from steel and iron."</p><p>With a hiss, the creature dove back behind the plants. "Mean Meinkráka, malicious Meinkráka. No trying tricking the tricking."</p><p>"Something for you to keep in mind then. I've learnt from the best." He chuckled as he heard a raspberry being blown at him from within the flowers.<br/>
With a flick of his wrist an ornate teapot appeared. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the Fay peering out from between delicate petals as he poured himself a cup. He scooped up some honey in a wooden spoon and placed it in front of the vase.</p><p>"Peace?"</p><p>"Truce," came the singing voice, tinkling with pleasure. The Fay climbed out of the flowers and sat down beside the spoon. They licked at the honey and bliss glittered across the slender form.<br/>
"Delicious Gammleið. No more sullying your seiðr with stinkin' earth's blood."</p><p>"You know that iron doesn't influence me. Or my seiðr." He smiled at the Fay who sniffed and dipped a tiny finger into the honey, sucking at it happily.<br/>
After a few minutes spent in companionable silence, the smile slowly vanished from the mage's face and his features took on a more sombre expression. An instant later, the door opened again.</p><p>"Ah, Gammleið. You're back already?"</p><p>He turned to look at the figure entering the hut. At first glance they appeared to be a very old, very small woman. Many people had made that mistake, especially those unsensitive to seiðr, and all of them had come to regret it. Most of all those who thought it clever to take advantage of a weakly elderly woman who had just come from selling her goods at the market and was carrying a pocket full of coin.<br/>
He met the Crone's eyes, his face serious.</p><p>"Hláka, go collect some burkn," the Elder Fay said.</p><p>"You won't need no burkn for what you're a-brewing, Cronie."</p><p>"Hláka…"</p><p>With a sigh of proportions seemingly impossible to come from such a delicate creature, the little Fay rose into the air. "Secrety secrets. You and the Slægi have fun." And with a snorting snicker and a slight 'pop' the creature vanished.</p><p>"You think they're really gone?" The mage asked, green eyes scanning the room.</p><p>"Can't you feel it, Lævísi? You should be able to."</p><p>He smiled and concentrated, taking in the air and fibres of energy weaving through the hut. Felt the heavily comforting presence of his seiðr and the pulsating, forceful power of the Crone that might be menacing to many but would always spell home and warmth to him. The crystalline presence of the young Fay had left the room.<br/>
The mage nodded and looked at his companion who had poured themselves some tea.</p><p>"Why am I looking like this?" He asked straight out, knowing that the Crone was not one to be courted with clever words and catching phrases. They most likely were the only Fay he would ever meet who were not.</p><p>"You look as many things, Gammleið. Why don't you shed this form? It might take along the loitering scent."</p><p>"Apologies." The mage glanced at his hands. While it was always fun to rile up Hláka, he had meant no disrespect towards the Crone, never would. Usually he remembered to cleanse himself from any lingering traces of iron. His mind must have been more preoccupied by all of this than he had realised.</p><p>"Not to worry, it's but a whiff." They replied gently.</p><p>He breathed, still looking at his hands. Slowly, blue started to trickle over his skin, washing away the pale tone of his Asgardian appearance. Azure ridges were running up his arms like veins of ice and crystals. When he opened his eyes, they were ruby red.<br/>
He stirred slightly as if to shake off the last remnants of what the smithy might have left on his other skin.<br/>
When he looked back at the Crone, they were smiling at him.</p><p>"Was this how I looked like when you found me?"<br/>
Was it just him or did the smile become a little strained?</p><p>With a sigh, the small, round hands of the Crone grasped the mug in front of them. "When we found you, you were wearing the picture of your Asgardian skin. You were badly injured, I had to use a lot of energy." They glanced at him for a moment. "Any creature not already in possession of seiðr wouldn't have survived. For a while I wasn't sure you would. But you did." A fleeting smile danced across the creased face. "It did break the glamour that was on you, though. And so we were allowed to see in your birth form and you were allowed to live freely." They looked at him almost challenging and he gave them a little smile.</p><p>He knew, of course. Had anyone but the Fae seen him in his Jǫtunn form, he would have been chained up  and locked away. Or killed. Or maybe hurried off to another realm, had he been lucky enough for it to be an Álfr and not an Ás to have spotted the Jǫtunn on Ásgarðr.<br/>
And he knew that what was still said about his people was wrong. Knew that they were no more a race of monsters than were the Fae. Or the Álfar. Or the Vanir. Or even the Æsir. But many of those living on Ásgarðr had only ever heard of them as their ancient enemies, out to kill and destroy and slaughter. He sighed.</p><p>"I'll be forever in your debt…"</p><p>The Crone made a clacking noise with their tongue and he looked at them attentively. They had obviously not been finished.</p><p>"As you grew and your abilities came forth, I was curious what form you would take on as a first. It turned out to be the one we had found you in." They smiled. "It must've great value to you, your Asgardian skin. Strong roots in your soul for your seiðr to take that shape. - Of course the next shift you did was into a nimble, bittie snake. It took us the whole day to find you again, you had great fun with that." They winked at him and he chuckled.</p><p>But something was still pressing down on him, dampening the playful mood that usually filled this hut. His home.</p><p>"Where exactly have you found me? You always said it was on the riverbank."</p><p>"Gammleið."</p><p>He looked up, right into their eyes. There had been something unusual in the Crone's voice, something sombre that did not fit them.</p><p>"Where?"</p><p>They sighed. "It was on the riverbank. Close to the outer walls of the Palace. A part of the bridge had collapsed and you were among the rubble. We assumed you were the child of a servant who got killed while fleeing."</p><p>He narrowed his eyes. "A Jǫtunn servant at the Palace?"</p><p>"Your kind is very skilled, you know that. Were they old enough, they could even trick the Royal Family."</p><p>"Spies?"</p><p>The Crone shrugged, their scraggy coat shaking like furs. "Who knows. It didn't matter."</p><p>And that was that, he knew. There would be no more to learn from the Crone, they would not know about his previous family because they did not care. That was the Fae. From the moment they had taken him in, he was of theirs, his former parentage inexistent to them. He knew the Crone would let him leave, would not stand in his way if he wished to find out for himself, as much as they might want him to forget all about his former life. They respected and understood him enough to allow him that freedom, although some of the others might try to thwart and trick him. They were as possessive as they were protective once one had become part of them.</p><p>Still, he wondered. And in his wondering, some words repeated themselves in his mind.</p><p>
  <i>He was very pale… with dark hair and green eyes…</i>
</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The Queen sighed as she put down the scroll and cast a fleeting glance out of the high window. The garden was in full bloom. It would soon be time to collect the andrja roots…<br/>
She drew herself up into a straight position as she heard a knock at the door.</p><p>"Enter."</p><p>The shuffling noise cast a smile onto her lips.<br/>
"You will soon celebrate half a century and are still entering my chambers like a youngster."</p><p>Thor chuckled and stepped towards her desk. When he reached her, his eyes fell on the scroll and his brows knitted. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Father is getting impatient…" he ventured carefully.</p><p>She leaned back into her chair, hands folding on her lap in deceptive gentleness. "My husband cannot tell me what to do."</p><p>"Aye. But for me…"</p><p>The broad face usually so full of vigour and energy seemed dimmed somehow. She sighed.</p><p>"I know, my son. You must do as he decrees. And I do understand the Allfather." Her eyes went back to the garden beyond the window. The palace walls were barely visible. Behind them, some of the taller buildings raised their crowns above their balustrades but that was all that could be seen of the city from her elevated position.</p><p>It had been hard, the rebuilding of Asgard City. Too many factions that had begun grappling for influence, both in the city itself as well as in other regions of Ásgarðr. Many had been trying to push the borders of their station, some of them bringing along very good and sound ideas, others… not<br/>
In the end, the destroyed city had to be dragged back onto its feet. One could not do that with half of one's mind on less pressing matters. As the Queen, she understood. As a mother however, she was prepared to go head to head with the King and take her liberties.</p><p>"There have been too many impostors," she said at last, her calm eyes back on her son. "Too much gold and time spent. But it is <i>my</i> gold and time and the King cannot argue that."</p><p>There was a slight smile now on the young man's lips. "So you will continue?"</p><p>"Of course I will."</p><p>He heaved a sigh, it was his gaze that went for the window now. "Do you really think there is any hope left?"</p><p>"I know he is out there." She reached for his hand, clasping the strong fingers with her delicate ones and pressing down with all the strength he had not yet acquired. He would, one day, but he was still so young.<br/>
It earned her another fleeting smile before he cleared his throat and took a step back.</p><p>"I must leave now. I'm to attend the meeting."</p><p>She gave him a courteous nod and a warm smile, her eyes following as he left the room. Once the door closed behind the broad frame, she sighed and glanced out of the window once more.<br/>
The andrja roots would soon be ready. He had always enjoyed brewing that particular potion. How it had infuriated Thor when all the words leaving his lips had been but spelled backwards and no one could understand him. She had meant for Loki to learn about the other properties of andrja that summer. They both had looked forward to that…</p><p>Had she been able to reassure Thor, she wondered. He still clung on to hope but hope was a treacherous anchor that could get unmoored any moment. One could not build on hope.<br/>
Odin did not hope - he knew. He was well aware of the power her Sight held and he believed her when she said that their youngest was very much alive, merely lost. But he had given up all expectations of finding him, whether out of necessity or to spare himself any further dealings with charlatans, she was not sure.<br/>
The impostors were a problem and the more the King was made a fool by them, the more precarious his position would be. The Queen however…</p><p>Nobody told the Vanir what to do. That was a general known fact. Bowing as they might to the greatness that was Ásgarðr, they would always do so in their own funny way. But bowing and working in Ásgarðr's interest they would. That was what the Æsir said about her people and sometimes preconceived ideas could be used in one's favour.<br/>
They would shrug off her continuous search as a capricious whimsy of their Vanir Queen who put her own funds into it and they would not mind as long as those funds were not drawn from what they perceived as their own purse. They probably almost expected it of her, she thought wryly.</p><p>Still, she wondered how much longer it would take. Her youngest was on Ásgarðr, of that she was quite sure. The little mirages she caught now and then were too poignant for him to have been whisked away to another realm. But even as that, Ásgarðr was vast and many parts out of the Queen's reach. There were parts where her words would never be heard and her announcements could not be read. Parts where even a rounding up of people would never procure all of those who dwelled there.<br/>
He might be close, so close, and still worlds apart. She sighed as her gaze traced the high, imposing palace walls.</p><p>"My faraway son, where have the winds carried you to…"</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Anthony Edward Stark was not nervous to meet his business partner. He did not do nervous. Nervous was for other people. People who were not clever, charming, successful entrepreneurs.<br/>
No, he most definitely was not nervous. A little bit tense perhaps. Or careful, yes, that was what it must be. They were into one of the greatest scams ever, only natural to be a shade apprehensive.</p><p>It had only been two weeks since the mage had showed up in his smithy. They had met a few times, talking rather generally about how the ruse might be best attained, trying to come up with a believable backstory for the Lost Prince.<br/>
Memory loss was what they had finally settled on. It seemed the most natural, although a bit too clumsy for his taste. But it was the best way to explain why the prince had not come forth until now. He would have to trust and leave it all to Loptr and hope his accomplice was up to pulling it off but that should not be a problem. Tony knew the mage could not break the oath and he was smart. So very clever. It had taken him by surprise to realise just how brilliant he really was.</p><p>Of course, he had met bright people before. Nobody who got high up in the Division made it there by being dull and he had worked with quite a few of them. But still, there was a certain sharpness to Loptr's thinking that he had not encountered yet. It showed itself in how the mage seemed able to analyse their actions and come up with a myriad of potential outcomes… It made even his head spin at times.</p><p>With a mind like that, he might be a highly influential politician and could probably take over a world or two while he was at it. Why someone with abilities like that was hiding himself away in the Fringe was a worrying thought all by itself.<br/>
Adding to that, he was a mage. He really ought not to be here, he should be high up, making a prosperous career at the Palace District.</p><p>Following these lines of thought usually led him to speculating what exactly his enigmatic accomplice wanted all that gold for. It was not really his business and he certainly did not feel like bringing up the subject of motivations, but it did make him wonder. There was a certain playful mischievousness shining through when they did their planning. The mage clearly thrived on the scheme but somehow he could not sense any ill intent. And he was usually very good at reading people.</p><p>"Whatever has that poor garment done to offend you that much?"</p><p>He blinked as he was dragged out of his pondering. Glancing at his hands he realised that his fingers were coiled tightly around the fine silken scarf he was holding.</p><p>"That's for you." He waved the emerald cloth at the mage who had stepped towards him and who was frowning at the scarf.</p><p>"Not that I'm being ungrateful about gifts - but why?"</p><p>"The Prince seemed to have a liking for green. Thought it might be something we could include?"</p><p>The mage reached out for the garment, his long fingers brushing past Tony's as he took hold of it. It left a strange, prickling sensation on his skin.<br/>
Seiðr, he thought. Must be his seiðr. Maybe even some remnants of the oath. I wonder if it will always feel like that when we touch. He frowned at the unexpected thought. Why ever would they have reason to touch…</p><p>"Why, isn't that charming."<br/>
Tony blinked and looked at Loptr who was grinning playfully at him.<br/>
"I bet it will compliment my eyes very nicely."</p><p>It will, Tony almost replied. He swallowed down the words. What was wrong with him today, he was in a most strange mood. Out of the corner of his eyes he watched as the mage weaved his fingers through the soft fabric, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face.</p><p>Of course he was attractive. Handsome even. The tall frame that moved with that somewhat otherworldly elegance and restrained power, the fine hands, the mobile face, those startling green eyes. Of course the mage was attractive. He had noticed it before. He was not blind. He was however smart enough not to mingle business with pleasure. Doing so could have very problematic consequences, especially in the line of work they were currently engaged in.</p><p>He swallowed again as the mage looked up, straight at him. There was still something pensive lingering in the green eyes.</p><p>"You remember rather much about the Lost Prince."</p><p>Tony tried for an indifferent shrug. "Guess I was at an impressionable age when hanging around the Palace." It was a half-truth. Maybe enough for now. It earned him a searching look but Loptr seemed inclined to be letting it go.</p><p>"In any case," the mage continued, "I've been thinking some more about who to contact at the Palace. Since you didn't want your friend in the guards involved…"</p><p>The words became blurred as Tony watched Loptr draping the luxurious silk around his slender neck. Seeing the garment that <i>he</i> had given him hugging the finely muscled shoulders caused a strange feeling of deep, burning satisfaction to well up within him.<br/>
Oh, this is bad, he thought and drew a hand over his face.</p><p>"Are you even listening?"</p><p>"Of course!" He sat upright from the somewhat huddled position he seemed to have sunk into and looked attentively at his partner who gave him one of his telling raised eyebrows.</p><p>"Sorry, just a bit distracted right now."</p><p>"You don't say." The eyebrow did not waver. He needed some time to breathe, Tony realised. He needed to sort his thoughts.</p><p>"Look, I have an idea how to flesh you out a bit more. - You being the Lost Prince, I mean," he hurried to clarify at the unimpressed stare. "Give me a day and I'll let you know if it'll work."</p><p>"Very well," the mage stood up, absentmindedly brushing over the scarf on his shoulders, rearranging it. Tony felt heat spreading up his neck as he watched the long fingers gliding over the silk.</p><p>"Maybe then you'll also tell me why exactly you know so much about the prince."</p><p>Aw damn. Tony stared at where Loptr had vanished into, hah, thin air. That last remark had certainly drained all uninvited thoughts from his mind. He sunk back against his chair and sighed.</p><p>How to explain without it sounding completely ridiculous? Sure, he had been a child back then, but still. There was something within him that wanted to impress the mage, not make himself look even more foolish than he had done already.</p><p>His eyes wandered towards the window where some stray beams of sunlight were trickling in.<br/>
It had been in the palace library, he had seen the younger prince for the first time. He had not even known who he was back then, had just realised that later when both princes had been pointed out to him.<br/>
Of course he had not been allowed into the library, but he had wanted to see it so much. And so, when his mother had been momentarily distracted, he had sneaked off. He knew the way, the most important hallways had been explained to him early on and he had learned about the less used ones by listening and paying attention. People tended to ignore the child of a servant, it could have its advantages.</p><p>He had scurried towards the library on silent feet and had opened the big, heavy door which - and he had been holding his breath for an instant - had not creaked.<br/>
The sight in front of him had made him freeze - rows and rows of books and scrolls and maps. Taking a deep breath he had smelled leather, ink and parchment.<br/>
Oh, what he would have given and done for just a day of free reign in here. Half a day. A mere hour.</p><p>He had taken a tentative step forward while scanning the room which seemed to be empty. His fingers had brushed over the backs of leather-bound tomes, some of them adorned with letters in scripts he had never seen before.<br/>
Then his heart had skipped a beat, there had been a feint, rustling sound. He had tiptoed along a row of books and peeked around the corner.</p><p>At a table by a high window, a boy was sitting.<br/>
Tony had stopped and stared but the other did not seem to notice him, too deeply absorbed in the scroll he was scribbling on. He had watched the elegant hand move over parchment that shone golden in the light falling in through the window. Dark hair, white skin and robes of deep black and rich emerald. Small specks of dust seemed to be glittering in the sun.<br/>
There was something in the complete stillness of that young boy, only the hand flying over the scroll, driving a silver quill like weaving a spell. Maybe he was, Tony had wondered. Were not the palace people capable of seiðr? He must be, something like this must be a spell.</p><p>Tony had sometimes heard people talking about beauty. Often they meant the Palace with its gilded walls and imposing statues that always felt so cold to him. Sometimes his mother who had loved art had spoken of it. Had described some paintings or taken him to a corner of the Palace to show him. She had tried to explain how they captured beauty and he had admired the masterful technique and craftmanship but could not see in them what she did.<br/>
It had not been until this moment, as he was looking at the small, dark figure sitting at a desk basked in gleaming light, that he finally understood.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The bitter smell of herbs welled up and he breathed in deeply. Two stirs to the left and then a sprinkle of boar's marrow.<br/>
His thoughts wandered as he went through movements that were nothing but routine by now, Ásgardðr always having a high demand on healing potions. He was happy to help out the Crone, the relaxing scents and monotone motions always helped him think.</p><p>Emerald green… that had stirred something buried deep within his memories. It happened sometimes, little traces and remnants rising like the bubbles in the cauldron in front of him. Sometimes he could almost grab them but they always burst into nothing or floated away before he caught hold of them.</p><p>Emerald green… his brows knitted in concentration.</p><p>A thought had been there, fleeting, but he had dismissed it right away. He was a Jǫtunn, not an Às. It could not be him. Much more likely that he indeed was a servant's son or even the offspring of infiltrators. Maybe in his unconsciousness his magic had chosen the appearance of the prince in an attempt at keeping him safe. Why looking like the younger prince would mean safety, he was not sure, but seiðr was capricious.<br/>
Yes, that was much more likely.</p><p>His gaze strayed towards the window behind which the sun was slowly setting. Tomorrow they would meet at the Grand Gardens, just outside the Palace. Stark wanted to show him something, getting him into the 'spirit of things' as he had put it.<br/>
He smiled at the thought of the artificer's the eager enthusiasm, how those always busy hands waved through the air with excitement when he was getting all caught up in trying to come up with some truly outrageous schemes.</p><p>The outrageousness was intentional, he was sure about that. Stark was not stupid, he would not think of silly plans in seriousness, he must do it solely for the fun of it and the mage could relate to that so very much.<br/>
"Let's just scrap all of this sob story stuff. You've been breeding racing bilgesnipe and lost your memory when breaking in a particularly wild one," Stark had said once after hours of meticulous planning, his face deadly serious.<br/>
The mage chuckled to himself and realised that he was still smiling.</p><p>Were he honest with himself, he would have to admit that he enjoyed the time he spent with Stark. Enjoyed it so much that he almost did not want the scheme to come to fruition.<br/>
But there was the gold. Oh, how tempting the gold was. He would finally be able to travel! Ever since he had managed to get hold of a book on the traditions of Álfheimr written by an actual Álfr he had longed to go there. To learn, to experience - not just what was said about the other realms by the Æsir but to see with his own eyes. He wanted to explore all of it - all of the Nine and the worlds beyond. There must be so much knowledge waiting out there.<br/>
But his skywalking was not strong enough to carry him off Ásgarðr, not yet. It might be in a few centuries and he did not want to wait for centuries. So there was only the conventional way open to him and acquiring passage on a ship was expensive.</p><p>250 gullin…<br/>
Where would he go first? He yearned to visit Jǫtunheimr, getting to know the world of his people, but it might not be feasible. He had found no information on Jǫtunheimr that had not been written by the Æsir and therefore had no clue on how they treated strangers, even those of their own kind.<br/>
Álfheimr first then, he had some contacts there. He might even be able to meet other Jǫtnar, the Álfar being much more inclusive than the Æsir. He could move on to Jǫtunheimr from there, and after that?<br/>
Nothing, not even the furthermost reaching branches of Yggdrasil would be his limit.</p><p>He smiled, his fancies and reveries taking flight as if borne by the sweet steam rising from the cauldron.</p><p>*</p><p>Tony glanced out of the window at the last remnants of a setting sun.<br/>
Tomorrow he would meet Loptr at the Gardens - the part of them that was open to the general public at least.<br/>
Would he find out more about the mage? He really hoped so. He wanted to, it surprised him to realise just how much he wanted to. Despite spending time together planning and scheming he still knew as good as nothing about him, not even his name.</p><p><i>Loptr</i>… he doubted it was anything but a moniker. It was interesting that he had picked one in the old language but that might be a mage thing. After all, they still worked with the old language while the rest of them just used it for official purposes.<br/>
Still, he wished to know more. There was a mystery and where there was a mystery he must solve it. It would be easy to chalk down his fascination to just that but he suspected there was more. Something in the mage himself made him long for getting to know him better.</p><p>Lost memory… that was the story they had come up with. Was it the truth after all? It still seemed incongruous that someone with such a sharp mind and extensive talents was limiting himself to the Fringe.<br/>
His gaze fell once again on the announcement. The Lost Prince. He had been wondering. Sure, there were other people on Ásgarðr with dark hair and green eyes but still…</p><p>If that was the solution, would he ever find out? And if so, what would that mean for their scheme? There was a sudden unexpected pang in his chest as he realised that to him, Tony Stark, it would make no difference. He counted on a 96.8% chance that their scheme would actually bear success, and then what? His temporary accomplice would be installed as the second prince and, no matter whether he was the real one or not, would be lost to him.</p><p>Maybe with his project… It would be of interest to the Palace, that was for sure. Maybe he could convince them that he would need a mage and since they knew each other…<br/>
He snorted at himself and the ridiculous idea. As if a prince would have time to work with a random artificier. But his project was not just some random trifle after all…</p><p>The light started to vanish and he sighed, his eyes trailing along the gleaming seam at the horizon. In moments like these he missed Pepper but he would not write to her, no matter how much she had made him promise to contact her if there was trouble.<br/>
She deserved uninterrupted time with her family, having worked that long and hard to afford the journey. And she would be back in two months the latest.<br/>
It was probably better that she was not here right now. She would certainly have tried her hardest to talk him out of this. She had always looked out for him, still did, was his voice of reason and he was grateful for it - but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.</p><p>Once again his thoughts stole back to the mage and something fluttered in his chest. That too reminded him of Pepper. He had not felt it since those few weeks in the beginning, when they had given it a try, long before they had decided that they were better off as friends. But there was something here he had never experienced, not even back then. The feeling he got when looking into eyes that sparkled with excitement whenever the mage took one of his wild ideas and pushed it further. How that sharp mind seemed to race his in an attempt at outdoing each other, all the while inspiring him in a way he had never known before. The unabashed mirth and glee the mage showed during their scheming and how he himself neither had to slow down nor hold back for the first time in his life.</p><p>The fluttering in his chest died, constricted by a clenching sensation and something that left a bitter taste in his mouth.<br/>
Tomorrow they would go to the gardens. Maybe he would find out something. It was all he could do for now, enjoying the limited time he had.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Taking a deep breath, he savoured the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. No one was here yet, just as he had expected. Something had driven him out earlier than their appointed time. Restlessness had tainted everything in the hut until he could no longer stand it and had left. Rather this way around than Stark waiting for him anyway.</p><p>It had been strange to walk through the streets of the Palace District, he was seldom here. Now and then for an assignment but even that was rare. He had pulled a spell around him, nothing too intricate, just something to avert prying eyes. It would not work against other mages but it gave him a sense of added security. At least his appearance was safe, not even the most advanced mage could see past shapeshifting. Once again he was grateful for his gift. Glamour always left a trace of seiðr that other wielders could detect, shapeshifting was much more secure.<br/>
Something about their meeting place had set him on edge and he could not get a grasp on what it was. There was a little itch, a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. Maybe he would be able to get hold of it if he was alone for a while. He pushed further into the garden, allowing his feet to take over and leading him along a certain way. Strange, usually he made a point of always being in control of himself. Something about this morning, about this garden seemed to muddle up his thoughts, allowing a hidden urge to take over.</p><p>He stepped into a cluster of trees. There, encircled by thick, towering stems an old building stood. Scattered rays of morning sun were brushing over it, most of the light being kept out by the sheltering crowns of the trees.</p><p>It felt like a dream as he was stepping towards the decaying ruin of what once must have been a splendid hall. A high arch marked the open entrance, all wood had rotten away a long time ago. He entered, his hands brushing over cold columns as he descended the steps and reached a vast room that must have seen countless banquets and balls over the centuries. Nature had taken over, draping the cold stone with curtains and panels of greenery instead of heavy velvet and valuable tapestries. He picked a blue flower from a cluster that had somehow manage to bloom despite the lack of light. With a frown he twirled it between his fingers, watching the sapphire petals dance on the dark green stem. He could almost hear music… He <i>could</i> hear music!</p><p>"Who's there?!" He spun around, his eyes wildly searching as his voice echoed through the deserted hall.<br/>
" Hláka? I told you not to follow me." There was no answer and his frown deepened. Listening into himself he coaxed forth some of his seiðr and sent it out but could not detect the signature of any Fay. He could not detect anything at all, nothing except the warm waves emitting from the plants surrounding him. Aside of them he was the only living thing in here.</p><p>The music had stopped, he realised and took a few more steps into the room. The vaulted ceiling was high above him and when he squinted his eyes he thought he recognised last remnants of paint. What scenes might have adorned them once?<br/>
Pictures rose in front of his inner eye. A spring garden, girls and boys twirling among flowers… A procession in summer, the golden family in a splendid carriage… A harvest festival, tables laden with a feast… A winterly hunting party, proud lords and ladies on prancing horses as snowflakes danced around them… Dancing… He could almost see them.<br/>
It must be a trick of the dim light. The way it cast shadows…</p><p>He blinked and raised the hand holding the little flower into a ray of morning sun, spun it so it was twirling between his fingers. There was that tune again, small and frail. He knew it, had heard it before. Where had he heard it? When?<br/>
Before he could reconsider he breathed at the flower and let go, allowing it to dance on its own in the stream of light.</p><p>*</p><p>Tony swore under his breath as he pushed through the greenery. He had been earlier than their appointed time, too jittery to wait any longer. In an attempt to put his mind to rest he had made himself onto the way to their meeting point. Might as well wait there, he figured and had been surprised when, at a distance, he had seen a tall figure go into the garden. Something about the shape had felt familiar even if his mind insisted that nothing of interest was to be seen.</p><p>He had picked that time of day to be alone with Loptr and was not very keen on random intruders. Maybe he could convince the other visitor that the grounds would be closed for the day or something like that. Speeding up he entered the garden and pondered where they might have vanished to. Birds flew up from a group of trees to his left. He knew what lay there, an abandoned hall of festivities. It had been destroyed during the attack and had not been rebuilt, restorations being focused on more pressing matters. The Winter Palace it had once been called and it was said that it had been the Queen's favourite. Every winter she would use it to host grand balls and introduce newly appointed nobles to society. Maybe it had been there where the princes would have danced for the first time…</p><p>Lost in thoughts he made his way through the shrubbery and blinked when he suddenly stood in front of the crumbling hall. He looked around but the other visitor was nowhere to be seen. Had they gone inside? Or further into the garden? Then he heard it - faint music echoing within the old building. He frowned and stepped inside.<br/>
It was cool in the damp air and dusky light. For a moment he thought he had been mistaken but then he heard it again, clearer this time. Silently he went down the stairs and turned around a column that flanked the entry which lead into the main hall.</p><p>His breath caught at the sight in front of him.<br/>
In the middle of the vast and empty hall, Loptr stood in a pillar of light, face slightly raised. He followed the mage's line of sight and saw what must be a flower spinning, emitting an unearthly gleam.<br/>
His thoughts staggered and he wondered what to do. Despite all his hopes, he had yet to witness Loptr use his seiðr. Sure, the mage seemed to appear and vanish from his smithy at will, but he never actually saw him doing so or applying his magic in any other way since their oath. And he yearned to see it so very much. Just the slightest hint. He wanted to see what Loptr could do, what powers he held, but one did not ask a mage about their abilities. If one was lucky - or sometimes if very, very unlucky - one might witness it, might learn what seiðr they could wield.<br/>
Not daring to disturb the mage he did his best to stand still, holding his breath until oxygen became a necessity.</p><p>Little sparks seemed to trickle from the flower as the music intensified and he winced when there was a movement in a corner. Maybe he should leave - but he could not see anyone beside Loptr.<br/>
His head swung around as something seemed to move in another corner. There were only shades, he was sure, but something was happening. The streams of light seemed to coagulate just as the shadows took form. His eyes narrowed. They almost looked like… people?<br/>
His gaze followed Loptr who was moving through the hall now, walking in a calm, graceful way almost as if he belonged here. The mage stopped in another beam of light and as he raised his face towards the ceiling, Tony saw that his eyes were closed.</p><p>Another movement of the shadows… They were crowding in on dark figure standing in the middle of the hall. The music took on another tune, a strangely haunting melody that made him shiver. The shades formed pairs and started to… dance? Whenever they travelled through scattered rays of light he thought he could recognise lush gowns and rich tunics. He blinked and looked back at the mage who seemed to stare at a corner from where one of the shades was approaching him. It took the form of a tall woman, clad in a splendid golden gown. The mage raised his hands and for a second Tony had to suppress a strange urge to stop him.</p><p>The woman took one of the outstretched hands and blinding light filled the hall. He recoiled and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms against them in an attempt to ease the searing pain. When he blinked them open a moment later he gasped.</p><p>There they were, the crumbling columns and tattered curtains but over them lay an image of splendid opulence. This must be how the Winter Palace had looked once. Pristine marble and gleaming metal, rich tapestries and colourful paintings and amongst it all, dancing pairs twirling to the music that seemed to pour out of air itself.<br/>
His eyes searched for the mage amongst the crowd. There was the golden woman and held safely in her arms…<br/>
He stared.<br/>
Wrapped in a flowing tunic that matched the colour of her dress was a tall man with blue skin. He knew already before he recognised the profile - had known by how the figure held himself, the way they moved.</p><p>Something brushed against his elbow and sent a shiver through him. He blinked and realised that he was surrounded by dancing pairs. He must have moved into the room. Looking back at Loptr and his partner something clenched in his chest.<br/>
The mage was smiling. He could not remember ever having seen him truly smile. He swallowed against the clump in his throat and searched for the face of the woman but still could not grasp it. It should be there, he should know who this was but it felt like looking at a blank canvas. He rubbed his eyes.</p><p>His attention went back to Loptr, taking in the even features. The melody took on a subtle note, trickling over his skin and seeping into his bones. He felt himself taking another step forward, staring at the beautiful tall figure.<br/>
Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed the woman tilting her head and leading her partner closer towards him. When they reached him, she stepped aside and gave him a gentle nod.<br/>
He looked up at the captivating face he had been staring at so often during the last few weeks and saw ruby eyes. They held a glazed expression as if the mage was looking at him through a dream. A gentle push against his back made him shiver again. He glanced over his shoulder and the woman was nodding at him once more.</p><p>Swallowing, he stepped into the open arms. The mage's right hand landed on his back and he swept them into a graceful spin.<br/>
His heart sped up when he was drawn in closer. The couples surrounding them faded, the music was but a distant tune as he was staring at the face in front of him. The happy smile, the eyes that gleamed despite their dazed expression, the fine markings following delicate bones and the lips…<br/>
In a haze he noticed how his hand that had been resting on the mage's shoulder was raising itself. Reaching out, fingertips landing on a sharp cheekbone, travelling along one of those curving lines…<br/>
The ruby eyes blinked at there was a sharp intake of breath.</p><p>He stumbled as his arms were suddenly empty and around him was nothing but dusk fractured by stray light. Dread was filling his chest as he searched the room wildly. Loptr was still there. Thank the Nine, he was still there…</p><p>Tony took a careful step forward causing the mage to look up from staring at his blue hands. There was something in the red eyes that made his blood run cold.<br/>
"No…" Tony whispered hoarsely. He staggered forward and grasped a slender wrist, holding on with all of his strength, staring into blank eyes.<br/>
"Let's talk. Please. Just… Please." He was not sure what he was pleading for but could not quench the dread flooding him. Loptr who had always vanished at will. Who had always come to him. Who he did not know how to reach or find. And who - that he was sure of - he would never see again would he vanish now.<br/>
His fingers clenched painfully around the wrist.<br/>
"Please…"</p><p>*</p><p>The Queen was hurrying through the garden.<br/>
As a rule, the Queen did not run. It was not something to be done excepting the most desperate circumstances. A brisk walk sometimes, but no running. This day however the gardeners shared hushed words in speculation as to why their Queen was running.</p><p>She stopped at the entrance of the Winter Palace, one hand resting against a cold column, the other pressed against her heaving chest, cursing silently that her gifts had never included skywalking.<br/>
It must have been here. It must have been him.<br/>
Taking a deep breath she entered the ruins and stepped down the crumbling stairs. Her gaze travelled through the vast hall where flecks of dust sparkled in the dim light like straying snowflakes.<br/>
She did not need to see the traces on the floor, two pairs of feet that had disturbed dead leaves and springs of flowers. She needed not see, she could feel it. The lingering memory of seiðr.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Translations</b>
</p><p><b><i>Names and words used as names</i></b><br/>andrja = confusion<br/>burkn = some variations of fern, often poisonous<br/>hláka = dew-weather<br/>Víðarr &amp; Hlóra = two Æsir<br/>Dragvandil = name of a sword mentioned in sagas</p><p><b><i>Loki's names</i></b><br/>Loptr = another name of Loki, meaning air, sky<br/>Gammleið = another name of Loki, meaning bird of prey's path (=air)<br/>Meinkráka = another name of Loki, meaning harmful crow<br/>Lævísi = taken from one of Loki's kenningar (Lævísi Loki), meaning 'malicious/cunning/clever Loki'<br/>Slægi = taken from one of Loki's kenningar (Inn slægi áss), meaning 'the sly god'</p><p><b><i>World-building</i></b><br/>Ásgarðr / Asgard (City) = used here as a distinction between the realm itself and its main city<br/>The story takes place in Asgard City and if anyone noticed an Ankh-Morporkian influence I'm more than happy to admit that I've been reading a lot of Discworld lately. ;)</p><p><b><i>Made-up coinage</i></b><br/>koparinn / koparnir = the copper one/s (sing./pl.)<br/>silfrit / silfrin = the silver one/s (sing./pl.)<br/>gullit /gullin = the golden one/s (sing./pl.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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